


Couch Wars

by katyb64



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Couch Sex, Don't you just love our idiots?, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, John also being an idiot, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock's soldier kink, just a little but you can tell it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyb64/pseuds/katyb64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is awoken from a lovely nap by his dickhead of a flatmate lying on top of him. Obviously John is displeased, and as they argue Sherlock gets into John's space and John... Reacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wanted to practice writing smut and this came out. Hope you like it, and it hasn't been britpicked or beta'd so if you find a mistake, tell me please!

John Watson had had a very long couple of days. An outbreak of the flu had kept him busy at work, and after-hours Sherlock had him running all over London for a case that made absolutely no sense to John, or anyone but Sherlock, really. Said case unfortunately required a visit to every pet shop London had to offer. London had a lot of pet shops, John quickly learned. It didn't help that John had no idea what they were looking for. All his infuriating friend had said was to look for something wrong with the chew-toys. How this related to the dead woman, John couldn't say. Sherlock always knew something nobody else did.

It was amazing, John often thought, how somebody so brilliant was so often looked down upon just because he had a few social short-comings. John occasionally tried to make up for that by telling the man just how amazing he was. It was almost adorable to see how happy it made Sherlock just to hear those small compliments.

The confusing case (John was considering naming it the Doggy Dilemma but wasn't sure yet) was going slowly and frustratingly. Sherlock had tried to explain to John the connection between the dead woman and her sister's dog, but John had quickly gotten lost in the details. After searching three shops, Sherlock had decided that they should split up so they could cover more ground. John was just reaching the fourteenth shop on his list when he received a text from Sherlock.

_Case solved. Bite marks on the arm weren't what we thought. Go home. -SH_

John nearly fell asleep during the cab ride home, and the march up the stairs to their flat felt like a climb up Mt. Everest. He opened the door to the flat, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his coat, letting it fall to the floor. After releasing a magnificent yawn, he called out for Sherlock, wanting to know what the results of the case had been before he went up to his room and collapsed. However, his flatmate wasn't home (or, equally as likely, he simply wasn't responding) and John was far too exhausted to take another step, much less make it up to his bed. The living room couch looked incredibly inviting, and it wasn't long before John had drifted into a deep sleep on its soft cushions, the afternoon sun warming the room from the window.

* * *

 

“ _Oomph_!”

John awoke with a start less than an hour later, suddenly winded, with a heavy weight on his chest. He could hardly breathe. A thick mass of dark, curly hair was pressing against his face. John yelped and the heavy weight pressing against his lungs shushed him.

“Sherlock!?” John rolled over quickly, knocking the taller man onto the floor with a thud. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane!?”

“Vaguely.” Sherlock replied, now sitting on the floor. “That hurt, you know.”

“What were you doing?” John sat up and fumed. “Trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Certainly not,” Sherlock looked mildly offended “there are much easier, more interesting ways to give somebody a heart attack. Much more creative ways as well, I should think. Besides, I-”

“Sherlock!” John's eyes were wide in disbelief. “Shut up and answer the question! Why the hell were you lying on top of me?”

“How on earth can I shut up and answer you? Quite impossible. Honestly John, you-”

“Sherlock,” John hissed through clenched teeth. “if you don't answer my question right now...”

Sherlock sighed and gracefully lifted himself off of the floor. “I asked you to get off the couch. You didn't respond. I told you that if you did not get off, I would lie down anyway. As you still hadn't vacated the couch, I-”

“I was asleep!”

“Not my problem.” said Sherlock “Now, if you don't mind...” he gestured at the couch and looked pointedly at John, who huffed a laugh in response.

“If you think I'm leaving this couch, you're truly insane.” John said, as he lay back down on the cushions, still warm from his nap.

“John, I'm tired. You always say I should sleep, why aren't you letting me?” Sherlock complained, his whiny tone making John roll his eyes.

“My heart bleeds for you, yet I somehow still refuse to leave. Besides, your bedroom is right down the hall. Mine is upstairs, and I'm just as, if not more, tired than you. Now go away.” John turned his back to Sherlock, pressing his face into the back of the couch, mimicking his flatmate's favourite 'petulant child' pose.

Sherlock sighed loudly and stared at John, waiting for a reaction. He sighed again, louder and more exaggerated than the last. He tapped his foot loudly against the hardwood.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap..._

John couldn't take it anymore. He sat up and stared at Sherlock. “You're unbelievable.”

Sherlock swiftly sat down in the empty space John had created and smirked. “Thank you.”

“Go away.” John elbowed Sherlock in the side.

The detective crossed his arms and shifted closer to John, trying to crowd him off of the couch. John began to feel rather uncomfortable, but there was no way he was moving. He could be just as stubborn as Sherlock, and he was going to prove it. Unfortunately for him, Sherlock picked up on the fact that John was beginning to feel the loss of his personal space, and moved nearer to him, pressing him up against the arm of the couch.

“Stop it, Sherlock.”

“Why, John? Feeling claustrophobic?” Sherlock moved ever nearer, staring antagonistically at his friend, his breath puffing against John's cheek, their thighs pressed together.

John stiffened, beginning to blush. The unfortunate closeness had made certain things rather apparent. Firstly, John could now smell the distinct scent of Sherlock, and he noticed, in spite of himself, that Sherlock smelled... well, rather nice. He shouldn't of course, seeing as he'd just been running around the streets of London, poking at crime scenes and pet shops... Certainly not pleasant scents. Still, there was something so obviously Sherlock mixed in there, something warm and comforting, and John found he didn't mind it one bit.

Secondly, John noticed the warmth of Sherlock pressed against him. The man always appeared cold, distant, but this close... it simply wasn't the case. He was warm and focused, so utterly focused on John. Studying him, it seemed. Searching for something, likely looking for a way to make John leave.

His previously noted reactions had begun to create a sensation of enjoyment at being crowded by his friend. His warm, nice-smelling friend... The final thing being made apparent to John, the most apparent, was that his enjoyment was creating other... reactions. Reactions Sherlock was sure to notice if he just looked down... _Oh God_...

John quickly snapped out of his Sherlock-induced trance and shoved his friend to the floor. Sherlock, who had learned from his last trip to the ground, grabbed onto John's sleeve and pulled him down too. They landed in a heap with John on top. He quickly scrabbled to get up, but Sherlock had other things in mind and pulled him back down, flipping them so Sherlock was straddling John's stomach.

“Really thought I wouldn't notice that, John?” Sherlock smiled and leaned in, his nose brushing John's cheek, his breath hot on John's face. The blond's eyes went wide.

“I don't, I... Notice what?” Perhaps Sherlock wasn't referring to... oh, hell, of course he was. However, John was not quite ready to discuss his... reaction, and before Sherlock could answer his rather obtuse question John flipped them once again. Of course, Sherlock wasn't going to lose control of the situation so easily, and he fought back with all his might. They were soon wrestling, rolling about the sitting room like a couple of teenagers fighting over a girl. If John had been in the state of mind for jokes he would have said that the couch must've been very flattered. Instead, he mostly swore and told Sherlock off.

John, the stronger of the pair, managed to straddle Sherlock's thighs and get his arms pinned down. However, instead of looking defeated as John had hoped, Sherlock was grinning like a fiend. “So, John, you have me pinned. What are you going to do to me?” He smirked up at his friend, his voice practically a purr. They were both panting slightly from their impromptu wrestling match, John more so than Sherlock. His reaction had been subdued when he was focused on the wrestling, but Sherlock's tone embarrassingly set him off again. John set his jaw, not willing to be as outwardly flustered as he was inside.

“I've half a mind to punch you in your smug face, if that's what you mean.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Oh, but you wouldn't do that, would you? Might make me less... receptive.” He continued his loathsome smirk, but John couldn't help but notice a bit of what he knew to be Sherlock's true smile, the one he wore when he was actually pleased.

 _Great_ , John thought. _He's flattered. Now he's going to be insufferable about it_. He sighed. “Look...” He began, but Sherlock interrupted.

“You're thinking I'm merely flattered by your interest and therefore want to make you more attracted to me so I can enjoy it. Your conclusion is incorrect.”

“What are you so happy about then? You're either flattered or just enjoying my discomfort, which would be really shit of you.” John glared at him. Stupid 'married-to-his-work' bastard probably thought this was hilarious, John's now prominent attraction to him. Sherlock had to know how much John cared for him, everybody else around them seemed to. The attraction bit... He had never been certain if Sherlock knew, but he'd assumed he did. Sherlock always saw right through him. John wasn't sure how he felt about it himself. He'd never, ever been attracted to a man. Not this much anyway, and certainly not one he actually knew and cared about. It was dangerously close to love, and John didn't want to go there. Ever. He'd been rejected by girls he'd loved before, he didn't think he could handle such a thing with Sherlock.

“Oh, come now. I don't enjoy your discomfort, I can sense it and it puts me off. Why would I enjoy that?” Sherlock shook his head. “Come on, John. You're missing an option from your list.”

John, now fairly certain Sherlock wouldn't restart the wrestling match, released the other man's arms and sighed. “This isn't some stupid puzzle, Sherlock. I'd really appreciate some respect in this matter, I'm embarrassed enough as it is without you teasing me. It's not funny to me, it's something I've been trying to avoid.” He got off of Sherlock and sank down onto the couch, putting his head in his hands. “Look, can we just... forget about it?”

Sherlock sat up on the ground “Avoid? So this isn't new, it's been for a while?” He looked surprised, which confused John.

“Yeah, well. I thought you'd picked up on it and kindly ignored it, but I guess I'm better at hiding it than I thought. Anyway, yeah. I... well I'm not about to go into detail, but... Well, you're a very good looking person, and...” God, John wasn't sure if he could handle this. He felt like he was about to burst into flames. He wished he would so he wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

“And?” Sherlock prompted, listening attentively. He rose and sat on the coffee table, now keeping a respectful distance from the blond. John had no idea what had brought on his sudden decision to not be a complete dick, but he was pleased about it.

“And... Well, I care about you. Obviously I care about you, that's not news to anybody. It's just... in the normal scheme of things, caring plus attraction equals... Well, a relationship.” John looked away, shrugging lightly. “But I understand that you aren't into that, and-”

“Who said that?” Sherlock interrupted, brow furrowed. He look a bit... affronted, John would say.

“Ah... you did. At Angelo's? 'I'm married to my work'. I wasn't asking you out then, but, still. You were pretty clear.” John shrugged again, returning his gaze to Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course I said that. I wasn't interested in your advances, and-”

“I wasn't making advances.”

The corners of Sherlock's lips quirked up in amusement “John, please. Maybe not consciously, but-”

“I wasn't making advances!” John insisted, glaring now. “I wasn't. I had absolutely no interest in you, not that way.”

“Fine, fine.” Sherlock placated him, not making John believe him in the slightest. “Back to the matter at hand. You didn't have interest in me, didn't as in did not in the past. So, now...” Sherlock waited.

“Now I may have a slight interest which I've been covering for the sake of our friendship. There, everything's perfectly ruined. Happy?” John huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the couch, feeling defeated.

Sherlock appeared to be forcing himself not to roll his eyes again, instead closing them in irritation. He let out a heavy sigh before reopening them. “Just because I said those things then doesn't mean I feel them now.” He said the words patiently, like John was a child who didn't quite understand big grown-up things. He must have realized how he sounded from the unimpressed expression on John's face, so he amended his statement. “The work is still incredibly important to me, but it is no longer the most important. Do you understand?”

John thought he did, was pretty damn sure, but he needed to know for certain before he did anything about it. “So you're saying...?”

“Oh for heaven's sake, John!” Sherlock surged forward and kissed John insistently, pinning him to the couch with his hands on John's shoulders, being mindful of his old army wound. He leaned closer, bringing up one of his knees to rest on the couch as he continued to eagerly press their lips together. John, in turn, circled his arms around his waist and kissed back with just as much fervour once he'd gotten over the initial shock.

“You,” Sherlock mumbled between presses of lips, “have been distracting me for ages.” He nipped gently at John's lower lip, making the other man moan quietly. “And I think it's about time- ah.” Sherlock cut himself off as John trailed his hands lower, settling them over his arse and giving him a small pinch.

“Come here.” John said, pulling him closer and sending him sprawling forward. He managed, as John had known he would, to catch himself and land almost gracefully, a knee on either side of John's lap.

The detective grinned mischievously at John's sudden forcefulness. “Gone soldier, have we?” He mused, leaning in to give John's earlobe a nip. “Going to be my commanding officer?” He spoke lowly, more seductively into John's ear. John simply moaned in response, head falling back against the couch as Sherlock moved his lips to his neck, gentle kisses turning to nips and licks. “Mm, John...” Sherlock purred against his neck. “I like the way you taste.”

John gasped as the statement was punctuated by a small bite, Sherlock suckling at his skin until it went red under his lips. “Yes...” he hissed, threading the fingers of one of his hands in Sherlock's soft curls, the other resting on his side. He started to slowly rock his hips upward, the strain of his erection against his pants and jeans becoming more than a little uncomfortable. Sherlock seemed to like this decision wholeheartedly, grinding his hips down in return, moaning against John's neck. “Ah, Sherlock... why didn't you, oh, mm...” He paused as Sherlock managed to find a ridiculously sensitive area of John's neck and stimulate in just the right way with his tongue. John tried to focus on his words. “Why didn't you tell me?”

It took Sherlock a moment to respond, occupied as he was. He reluctantly took his mouth off of John's neck, giving it a final lick that made John shudder. He moved his lips to John's ear, brushing lightly against it as he spoke softly. “John, if I'd known you'd respond so... enthusiastically,” He pushed his hips down, pressing his cock up against John's through their clothes, making John moan. “I would have done this ages ago. However you are surprisingly adept at hiding your attraction.” He licked along the shell of John's ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“M'not, though.” John panted, rutting against him. “I'm absolute shit at it. Everybody knows. Only you didn't.”

“Preposterous.” Sherlock pulled back, narrowing his eyes. “Nobody would figure out such a thing before I did. I know you. I can tell what kind of a day you've had just by the way you breathe.”

John smiled at that, leaning forward to peck Sherlock's lips before speaking. “You know every time I like a woman, don't you? I don't see why the signs for this would be much different.” He had been fuelled entirely by lust before they'd started to properly talk, but now that they were, he felt all that affection and fondness fill his head, and it really hit him that Sherlock Holmes, his best friend and favourite person on the planet was straddling his lap and kissing him. He was grinning ear to ear.

Sherlock considered John's words, forehead creasing in confusion. It was an expression that very rarely graced his features, and John knew he hated to make it. Sherlock thought for a few moments before replying. “I knew, but I denied my own evidence.” He leaned forward again, sighing and resting his forehead against John's as his face lit up with clarity. “I made up excuses as to why your now that I think about it terribly obvious signs weren't about me.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” John wondered, words muffled as he pressed his lips again to Sherlock's. He couldn't get enough, really, now that he was allowed. Thankfully, Sherlock seemed to have absolutely no problem with that, revelling in the kiss before he responded.

“Didn't want to muck us up.” He murmured, smiling against John's lips. It was a quiet, tender moment until Sherlock thrust his hips down without warning, making John gasp and squeeze his eyes shut. “Enough with all these feelings, mm?” He purred, pressing the palm of his left hand to John's cheek and stroking gently with his thumb. Under normal circumstances it would have been a sweet, caring gesture but Sherlock somehow made it unbearably erotic, as if the cheek was somehow an erogenous area.

“We'll need to talk more later.” John said assertively, even as he let his head fall back against the couch.

Sherlock sighed, rocking his hips down and nosing his way back to John's neck. “If you can talk after this, I haven't done it right.” He spoke with his lips against John's skin, somehow managing to make his voice even lower.

John groaned, feeling like he was melting into a puddle of pure want. “Sherlock...” He breathed, twining the fingers of one of his hands into his curls. He wasn't entirely sure what he was asking for, he just wanted more of Sherlock, more to have and touch and feel. Sherlock chuckled against the column of his throat and John hummed, stroking his fingers absently through Sherlock's hair. “Shouldn't we go to a bedroom?”

“I don't want to stop long enough to get there.” Sherlock told him, kissing a path down his neck and licking his way back up. “Do you, John?” He punctuated the tease with a quick nip at John's earlobe, trapping it between his teeth and tugging.

“No, no don't stop.” John replied quickly, hooking his arm around Sherlock's back to pull him closer. He never wanted to stop, wanted to have Sherlock touching him like this always. His eyes were half-lidded, and he was making quiet, needy noises of which he would be horribly embarrassed if he wasn't so devastatingly turned on. Sherlock kissed him again, practically devouring him with his mouth, lips nipping and tugging greedily. He could barely believe that Sherlock wanted John just as much as John wanted him, but the proof was given by his own name whispered reverently against his lips, with eyes of an unnameable colour staring deeply into his. He wanted more, so much more.

Sherlock, ever so perceptive, pulled back until he was sitting up on John's lap, grinning deviously at him. John frowned, upset at the loss of lips against his own. He found he much preferred Sherlock's mouth when it was pushing desperately against his, and that grin always meant John was about to deal with something frustrating. “John...” Sherlock looked him up and down, drinking him in. John had thought he was used to the intensity of Sherlock's stare, that it didn't phase him anymore. As he shivered and blushed he knew that the intense gaze would never stop affecting him, even if now the reaction was one of arousal rather than discomfort, as it had been when they first met. Sherlock, staring John straight in the eyes, started to slowly undo the buttons of his dark red dress shirt, trailing his fingers down until the shirt was hanging open. He flicked the button of his trousers open and slid his hands back up the bareness of his pale chest.

John watched raptly, eyes wide and dark. He licked his lips, getting impatient and pushing the rest of the shirt off of Sherlock's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then, his hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of the soft, nearly-hairless skin. Sherlock was androgynous in that way, and in a few others, what with his dark, full lips and lithe body. However, John wasn't thinking about that. He knew with absolute certainty (and if there was any doubt the hardness pressing into his stomach would have given it away) that the person he was touching and wanting was a man, and he couldn't care in the least because that man was Sherlock. Everything was new with him, an adventure for them both to have, so why not sex? It seemed perfectly fitting.

Sherlock made a little noise of approval as John's hands roved his chest, leaning his head forward to resume the kisses he'd interrupted. John hummed, rubbing the pad of his thumb over one of Sherlock's nipples for a bit of revenge after what could only be called a strip-tease. The detective gasped, arching forward into the touch. “More.” He insisted with a growl, and John happily obliged, pulling his mouth away from Sherlock's to kiss down his chest, and then to lick and suck at the hardened nub, feeling smug when Sherlock whimpered and wriggled his hips. “Yes, yesyesyes.” Sherlock was thrumming with desire, and it made John impossibly harder to hear how much he was wanted.

“You are beautiful like this.” John murmured, lifting his lips so they were pressed against the sharpness of his collar bone. He dragged his mouth across it, feeling the hardness of the bone. “Absolutely amazing. God, Sherlock.” He whispered to him, running one of his hands softly down the pale expanse of his back.

Sherlock sighed softly, resting his lips against John's brow. “Beautiful? That's a bit much, don't you think?” His voice held a light hint of teasing, as well as genuine wonder.

“It's not enough.” John said with certainty, voice leaving no room for argument. “You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen.” He gave him a firm kiss.

“Sentiment.” Sherlock dismissed the statement, but John saw the light in his eyes and it made him grin.

“Just a bit, wouldn't want to turn you off.”

Sherlock smiled at him. “John Watson, there are many things of which you are capable, but turning me off is not one of them.” John smiled adoringly at him, and was going to say something sweet in return but Sherlock interrupted. “Now take off your hideous jumper and those jeans before I rip them off of you.”

“Way to ruin the moment...” John grumbled, but he was still smiling, couldn't help it, and he pulled his jumper up and off, flinging it behind the couch without a care. Sherlock made quick work of his undershirt and then there was skin on skin which was just wonderful. John watched Sherlock as he looked him over, gaze stopping and focusing on his scar. It was nothing Sherlock hadn't seen before (somebody had a habit of breaking into John's room, and, if he was feeling particularly bored, the bathroom) but something that he was now seemingly enraptured by.

“Later.” Sherlock said decisively, leaning down to give John's shoulder a quick kiss, and before John could inquire further he had hands pawing at him through the denim of his jeans and dear god how was a man to focus on anything but that? “Too much clothing.” Sherlock said the word scathingly, like wearing clothes was somehow the biggest sin a person could commit. John was inclined to agree.

As Sherlock deftly undid the zip, John lifted his hips and let the offending fabric be pulled away. Sherlock stared at his groin and John couldn't help his blush, having such an intimate part of himself so obviously scrutinized. The embarrassment didn't last long, because then Sherlock was palming him through his pants and John couldn't be bothered to breathe properly, never mind find the time to be modest. “Lie down.” Sherlock murmured to him, reluctantly removing himself from John's lap so that he could do so. “I want you on your back.” He explained, tugging off his trousers while he was up and able.

Really, how was John to say no to that? He did as he was asked, quickly shifting so that he was lying down, head resting on the arm of the couch. He pulled his legs together, assuming Sherlock was going to get on top of him. Instead, Sherlock nudged them apart and situated himself between them, looking up at John with those ridiculously impossible eyes. He looked right at him, and John held the eye contact, knowing it was a bit of a challenge. Sherlock smirked and lowered his head, mouthing him through his boxers. He lost the challenge, closing his eyes in pleasure. “Sherlock, oh god that's good.”

Sherlock hummed his agreement, hooking his fingers in the waistband of John's boxers. He pulled away, pressing a kiss to John's stomach before looking up at him, eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. John nodded his assent, and Sherlock tugged the boxers down. “Never done this before...” He murmured, looking at John's erection curiously, the stare made less clinical by his lust-blown pupils.

John looked down at him with concern, not wanting him to do anything he was unprepared to do. “Oh, maybe we should – oh fuck!” John threw his head back and moaned as Sherlock took half of his length into his mouth without warning, suckling gently before pulling away.

“We should do what?” He asked innocently, smiling up at John.

“Shut up and do that again.” John demanded breathlessly, making Sherlock chuckle and press a kiss to John's hip.

“Anything you say, Captain.” He winked at him and dove back in, taking in less but sucking harder, sliding his hands up John's thighs to grasp his hips. John had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Of course Sherlock was a fast learner, so it quickly went from slow and unsure to ridiculously good. John couldn't control his mouth, suddenly hearing himself blather on.

“Sherlock, oh god Sherlock _please_.” He gasped out the words, choked little moans between each breath. “You're so brilliant, ah, you're amazing and fantastic and-” He cut himself off, back arching off the couch as Sherlock swirled his tongue around his glans, seeing if John would like it. Dear sweet lord did he.

Sherlock made a lot of noise around his cock, humming, moaning, grunting. John would have laughed if he wasn't so pleasurably overwhelmed. It was impossible to keep that man quiet, and the vibration. “Christ...” John huffed, tangling the fingers of one of his hands in Sherlock's curls. He didn't push or pull, just wanted... he didn't know, but god he wanted. He didn't think he had very much time left to want, though, because Sherlock was really quite the quick study and at the pace at which he was bobbing his head... John could only last for so long. He choked out a warning, tugging gently at Sherlock's curls and groaning when he stubbornly refused to lift his head. “Sherlock, you have to- you've never-” John clenched his jaw, trying ever so hard to stave off orgasm so that Sherlock could come to his senses. Instead, the man stared into John's eyes and gave him a particularly hard suck that sent him shouting over the edge, Sherlock's name on his lips. Sherlock would have smirked had his mouth not been otherwise occupied.

John lay panting, closing his eyes as Sherlock swallowed around him, making him shiver. He felt Sherlock slide off of him and slither up his body, planting a hand on either side of his head. “John...” He murmured, prompting John to open his eyes as he leaned in close enough that their noses brushed.

“You're mad.” John chuckled breathlessly, tugging Sherlock down for a kiss. “How the hell are you so good at something you've never done? That was... you're mad.” He settled, smiling.

“It was a simple matter of responding to your preferences and suppressing the gag reflex, which you can do by squeezing your left thumb, like so.” Sherlock demonstrated, holding up his hand. John took it and shook his head, still smiling stupidly.

“Stop being clever and let me get you off.” John propped himself up, shoving Sherlock's chest playfully to get him out of the way. He was back in John's lap, which John found he really enjoyed, the weight of him, the feel... It was a new favourite position.

Sherlock scoffed. “I'll be clever no matter what you're doing, but I appreciate-” John cut him off with a kiss, swiping his tongue over Sherlock's bottom lip. He could taste himself in the kisses, and while it wasn't exactly the most pleasant flavour in the world it was... pleasing, to know that that was him on Sherlock's lips, nobody else. He hummed into Sherlock's mouth and trailed his hand down to cup Sherlock through his pants. They were plain, black, and deliciously revealing, showing the bulge of Sherlock's arousal.

John rubbed his palm teasingly, still blissfully kissing away. Sherlock whimpered, managing to gasp “More,” before John pulled him back against his lips. Complying, John pulled the band of Sherlock's boxers down and wrapped his hand around his already leaking erection. He moved his lips to Sherlock's neck, wanting to hear what sounds he would make.

“Eager, are you?” John murmured against his neck between nips and licks. “You want me. Sherlock Holmes, you're desperate for me.” He smiled, teasing the slit of Sherlock's erection with his thumb before beginning to work him in slow, languid strokes. Sherlock gasped, mouth hanging open. “I'm glad, Sherlock. I've been desperate for you for so long... seems only fair that it should be reciprocated.” He suckled at his pulse point, using his free hand to cup the back of his head tenderly.

Sherlock moaned deep in his throat. John could feel it buzz against his lips. “John, I- you-”

“Sh...” John hushed him, running his lips across Sherlock's jaw. “You're not the only one good with words. I write a blog, after all.” Sherlock chuckled, the laugh quickly turning back to little pants and gasps as John continued to pump him, speeding up when he began to wriggle in his lap. He rocked up into John's hand, digging his fingers into John's shoulders as he grew closer to coming.

“John, oh Christ, I need... I just, I-” Sherlock was babbling, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought. John was amazed at causing such a reaction, like managing to pull the brakes on a train going 500 miles per hour. He kissed Sherlock for his unintended flattery, stopping him from having to try and talk. Instead, Sherlock moaned helplessly against his lips, too far gone to even try to kiss back. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched, trying to focus on prolonging the experience. His nails were digging almost painfully into the tops of John's shoulders, and John found he sort of liked it, knowing that there would be little crescent moons imprinted in his skin for a while after. He nipped at Sherlock's lower lip before pulling it into his mouth and sucking, loving the little gasp it caused Sherlock to make.

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled back and his eyes flew open. “John, I- John!” He shouted and let his head fall forward, knocking his forehead against John's as he came. John wrung the orgasm out of him, stroking him until the last few beads of come leaked out, letting it drip over his hand. Sherlock was panting, grip loosening on John's shoulders and sliding his hands down John's chest. John nudged his head up and joined their lips, kissing him gently as he refocused.

“Okay?” John asked softly, pulling back. He reached up to push the curls off of Sherlock's sweaty brow, gazing up at him.

Sherlock laughed. “That's a stupid question.” He grinned, kissing John again. “However, under the circumstances I suppose you're allowed to be obtuse. To a certain degree, of course.”

“Great, we're back to being an arsehole already.” John smiled affectionately. “You couldn't have given it a minute before mouthing off?”

“Never.” Sherlock slid off of him, wobbling before standing upright. “Now help me clean us up and come to my bed. I'm exhausted.”

“Your bed?” John asked as he stood up beside him, tilting his head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“Yes, I still haven't slept and I've been up for over thirty-six hours. I'm exhausted. You are too, considering you were willing to wrestle me rather than climb the stairs to get to your bed.”

John snorted. “That was about the principle of the thing! You don't just wake somebody up because you want to sleep where they are, it's just... rude! Especially since your room is two steps from here.” He pointed emphatically.

“It turned out well enough, didn't it?” Sherlock headed to the kitchen after looking down and wrinkling his nose distastefully at the drying mess on his stomach. He ran a towel under the sink and swiped at it, quickly getting rid of the mess and then whipping the towel across the flat to John, who caught it with practiced ease. John wiped off his hand and threw the towel back, which in hindsight was a poor idea since Sherlock just dodged it and let it fall to the floor with a plop. John sighed, but decided he was too tired and sated to bother getting upset. Sherlock smiled devilishly and headed off to his room, opening the door and leaving it that way as he entered and left John's line of sight. After only a second's pause, John followed, shutting the door behind him.


	2. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sherlock and John's time on the couch, they head off to Sherlock's room to get some sleep. They're a little chatty, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those of you who wanted to read the pillow talk... here! Thanks for caring enough to request, you're awesome!

Sherlock tugged John into his bed, making him laugh as he collapsed down beside the other man. He was quickly wrapped in a nest of cool blankets and a warm Sherlock, who pressed close to him as if he were freezing and John was the only source of heat around. John settled in the silence, planning on just falling asleep when a question occurred to him. He twisted in Sherlock's arms until he was facing him and tried to phrase it delicately. “So, when you said, earlier, that you'd never... was this your first time?”

“Mm?” Sherlock gazed sleepily at him in the dim lighting from the window, the sun nearly set. “No, I'd just never given oral before.” Sherlock yawned. “Why? Does it matter?”

John shrugged, resting one of his arms over Sherlock's torso and softly rubbing his hand over his back. “I suppose not. Some people consider their first time as this big special thing, but I guess you wouldn't care much about that.”

Sherlock hummed. “Good guess. Your deductive skills are improving.” He snuggled into John's neck, sighing contentedly.

“Hm...” John stroked Sherlock's back absently. The room was peaceful, a warm haze of post-coital bliss. John felt so utterly happy to be so wrapped up in Sherlock, that he really wasn't thinking all that rationally, and his mouth got away from him. “Are we in a relationship now?” He blurted and felt his face grow hot. That was clearly a stupid question, this was Sherlock after all. He probably thought such things were unnecessary, dull... John wanted to smack himself.

“Yes.”

John blinked at him in surprise. “Yeah?”

“I just said yes.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at the repetition. “I want that, if you do as well.”

“I do!” John said quickly, not wanting there to be any doubt. “I just... didn't expect you to react like that.”

“You thought I was going to say no?” Sherlock sounded astonished.

“Not exactly, I just thought you found that kind of thing...” John scrambled for a word. “Pointless.”

“Mm... in some cases. In this instance, I quite like the idea of being publicly bound to you in some way, even if it's only through a title.”

John smiled softly. “Oh. Well, that's... wow. Good.” He pressed a light kiss to the top of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock sighed, burying his face deeper into the crook of John's neck. “I... I care about you a great deal, John.”

John couldn't help beaming. The most amazing man in the world (in John's humble opinion) declares something like that to you... it's impossible not to feel proud. “I know, Sherlock. I care about you, too. It drives me crazy how important you are to me.” 

“In a good way, I presume?” Sherlock teased, and John could feel him smiling.

“In the best way.” He assured him.

Sherlock hummed, pressing a small kiss to John's neck. “Good. I'd hate to date a madman.” 

“Actually, it isn't all that bad so far.” 

“Very funny.” Sherlock said dryly, making John chuckle.

“I agree.” John smirked.

“Go to sleep, John.” Sherlock held him closer, nuzzling him slightly.

“M'kay.” John yawned, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting him. They fell silent, and John was nearly asleep when Sherlock spoke again.

“Can I wake you up with a blow job?”

John's eyes flew open. “What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said. Now how am I supposed to sleep, thinking about that?”

Sherlock shrugged. “You're very tired.”

“So are you, maybe I'll wake up first.” John nudged him playfully, but Sherlock only scoffed.

“Unlikely. However, if you do, feel free to do anything you see fit.”

John shook his head. “You're insane.”

“I've been reliably informed that it isn't that bad.”

“So far.”

Sherlock huffed. “So is that a no to the wake up?”

John rolled his eyes.“It's a yes, but you're still insane.”

“Maybe I'm just crazy about you.” Sherlock mused, grinning. John grimaced. 

“Good god, that's cheesy.”

“Hush, I'm tired.”

“So go to sleep.”

“I will.”

“I will, too.”

“Okay.” 

“Good.”

Another wave of silence descended upon them. 

“John-”

“I will smother you.”

“I was just-”

“I swear to god I will take that pillow and kill you with it.” 

“You're very violent.”

“You drive me to it.”

John could almost feel Sherlock's smug little smile.

“Shut up.”

Sherlock popped his head up from John's neck, pouting. “I didn't say a thing.”

“You were thinking something irritating.”

“Was I?”

“Probably.” John reached up and kissed Sherlock before he could respond, pulling him back down. Sherlock lay his head on John's chest, John's hand still absently rubbing up and down his back. “Go to sleep, okay? You need it and so do I.”

Sherlock sighed. “I know. I'll try.” The room fell silent again.

John waited for Sherlock to speak again, come up with a clever and irritating remark to keep them up longer. As he waited, he noticed Sherlock's breaths slowing and evening out, his grip around John's middle loosening as he drifted off. John smiled softly, finally closing his eyes again. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it, but he was falling asleep all wrapped up in Sherlock, and he was sure he'd never felt better in his life.


End file.
